P u r p l e
by Spaghetti Soysauce
Summary: She was not simple and nor was she a harbinger of good luck, but she gave a special light to this color and gave him a reason to like the color again. :Roxis x Pamela:


Summary: She was not simple and nor was she a harbinger of good luck, but she gave a special light to this color and gave him a reason to like the color again. |Roxis x Pamela|

An attempt on slightly dark or tragedy-themed drabbles. Since I did one for Vayne-Jess, why not for my favourite pairing? A drabble attempt for other MK pairs can't hurt either. Also, I'm afraid I have to go on a little hiatus on my multi-chaptered fics due to the loss of my laptop. To add up, the weather here has also become bothersome lately, so I haven't been much in updating. For now I can just publish some one-shots. Sorry to everyone who's been waiting for an update, and thank you for your patience.

**Warning**: Some tragic ending. Multiple mentions of the color purple. Some confusion (maybe) in the last parts, which is explained below. This drabble just came through my head all of a sudden, so it's completely random. And I think I sorta screwed up on the genres for this story.

**Disclaimer**: No, MK is not my property. If it was, I'd cry a river and tweak a _lot_ of stuff. A hell lot of _stuff_.

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><p><em>+ within your reach, visible in sight +<em>

Purple was a color of royalty, as so said by his grandfather.

He used to say it to him when he was a kid. His grandfather always loved his purple silk robes that always seemed spotless. He taught him, that when he donned this color, he should act as a respectable individual and not as a shameless bastard as he wore it, especially in public. In all honesty, he did admit that when he wore a mini-purple robe during his childhood on some occasion, he did feel somewhat 'royal', himself.

The last thing he remembered that his grandfather told him was to respect any individual who dons the color, especially if that person was a lady.

His mother loved this color, not for the purpose of making people think that she was royalty or just for making an impression among others. She loved the color for she thought that the color was the symbol of simplicity, thus the color was like her mother's trademark: there was not a day where she did not have this shade of color on her.

_Purple is the symbol of simplicity and luck, Roxis. _With a smile and a wink, this was his mother's answer when he curiously asked her why she loved the color when he was six years old, and he understood indeed. His mother was not at all flashy and loved simple items that were complementary on her or would be to her fancy. At some point, he began liking the color too, but not so much to his mother's extent; the extent that he would not leave the house without a shade of purple on him.

Their views of the color were very much so different, but they did share a great fondness for this color.

But looking at it now from the present perspective, he could not comprehend why his grandfather and mother thought so highly of the color. As of the last two weeks, he was subjected to terrible, humiliating events courtesy of his Mana, Flay, and the purple clad female who was somewhat involved in all the trouble he was in for the past two weeks. He never considered her a hindrance (well, she had been since she was the real reason why he feared ghosts, spirits, and dark brooding places to begin with, but he could cope with it someday) with his work, since she was an aloof, ditzy ghost who did nothing much with her time but play with her stuffed animal or the members of the workshop. But right now, towards his ambition of beating Vayne and his excelling studies, she was now proving as a hindrance.

He was starting to hate that color.

The prominent colors on her were purple, and she ruined every good definition of his mother towards the color. Simplicity was not her; she certainly likes high-grade stuff, especially when it came to 'cute' items. And to hell, she was certainly not good luck, definitely not towards_ him_, she was pretty much the opposite! If she could ruin his mother's definition of the color, she could easily do so towards his grandfather's single definition! She certainly had the elegance of royalty in all honesty, yet she could not fit the proper definition itself! And _respect_... Respect was out of the question. Respecting someone was hard; especially if you were talking about a two-centuries old ghost who still favors teddy bears and had a childish personality.

If his grandfather would hear him now; he would've slapped him back and forth now.

Her attention span was never dedicated to him or his works, but instead was more fascinated by cute objects, her constantly-floating-around-her-makeshift-weapon teddy bear, and Vayne and the others. Not like he wanted her attention; and it was most likely vice-versa, since he assumed that his cold aura wasn't so 'cute' for her taste. The only times they paid attention to each other was in battle, she taking physical attacks for him when they switch places and he taking her place when her HP has reached its limit.

Another time when he had to stick his attention to her was when she was nearly sent to the afterlife no thanks to an over imaginative kouhai known as Anna Lemouri, he had honestly focused on protecting her from a lethal blade that could send her away with one slash. Even though it looked impossible, no one could take their chances. If his kouhai's blade could cut through _reality itself_, then sending a ghost to heaven was an easy probability, wasn't it?

And not to mention when he was bluntly 'rejected' in public. He felt dejected, pathetic, and _powerless_. He didn't like her! He never did! He didn't hate her, but the main reason why he was acting 'nice' (according to Flay and the others) was because of his trauma against her! Yet, the big question for him was _why_, why in heaven's sake, was he acting _so_ agitated when he didn't like her to begin with? The question spiralled around him; and finally losing it, he distanced himself much further from her.

Also when she had created that gruesome creation, he could not refuse such an angelic smile, even though the 'angel' was holding a drink that might've been stolen from the darkest pits of hell. His wits had all been thrown off the window, and his stupidity results him staying in the infirmary for an estimate of _two weeks_. He cursed himself for being so weak, especially towards a mere female.

Towards _her_, of all the people in the world.

That was it. He hated the color. Curse that ghost.

At some point, he could've hated her as much as he hated Vayne. Subconsciously, he kept of thinking about what he hated about her. As absurd as it is, in his thoughts, she was the center of it. He hated that he could see her in her glory: her smile, the pair of amethyst eyes, the cloak of blue around her, and the old school uniform on her petite frame, her small white hands and long legs. He hated her voice, much more so when he calls to him, and he hated the faint smell of lavender when she passed by him. And he hated that every time he had to face her, his eyes were greeted by the sight of the color _purple_.

But strangely enough, he could not bring himself to hate her strongly. Was it because she was a girl? He could not understand why, and shrugged it off as mere friendliness. Then it had struck him.

Had he _fallen_ for _her_?

_No_, he thought. It was impossible.

_+ when you reach out to feel +_

He certainly was powerless as he stood there like a statue.

She had _died_. The only thing to remind them of her was her beloved stuff toy, faced flat on the wood, a few inches from where their sensei stood, stoic. Vayne was at the verge of tears, mumbling something he could not hear. He could hear the voices of the others, crying out for the ghost who had disappeared. He couldn't understand himself. He had long cursed that he would be free from looking at _her_ in all her purple and sweet, annoying glory. But right now he kept on asking himself repeatedly...

Why?

Why could he be so weak? He stood there, not able to save her. He could not bring himself to cry, instead, he clenched his fists tightly to the point that he felt that it was about to bleed.

When a mysterious light engulfs the room and the pink toy and its owner had returned and re-formed back in the room in a few minutes, he temporarily ignored the fact that his arch-rival was the one who brought her back. Instead, he had already understood _why_, why he couldn't hate her. Why he felt strongly against her. Why this flood of relief washed over him so damned quickly.

He had, indeed, fell for her.

At that point, he felt like the stupidest man on earth.

+ _your hand goes through nothingness _+

He knew the consequence of this to begin with.

Falling in love with a _ghost_ was a foolish. He already knew this to begin with. When he was set-up in the rejection trap, he thought that falling in love with her was impossible, and he would never, _ever_, fall for her. Why would he fall for someone who bluntly stated that she didn't favour people of his type?

He had thought wrong.

Ever since then, his view of the color purple had reverted back to where it was before. He liked it, but at the same time, hated it. He still kept his distance from her and acted the same; in hopes that distancing would stop the stupid impulses that his body was sending out, and hopefully to forget that he liked her after all. There were times that she was in his range of reach, but he never dared to reach out to her because he fears that his hand is just going through thin air, not able to touch her small hand or to feel a tuft of her hair.

She is visible to him, he can hear her voice, smell the faint lavender when she floats, but reaching out to touch her is like reaching for out for empty air.

She might not have been in his reach from the start, anyway.

Wasn't that an aspect of royalty to begin with?

His grandfather and his mother were right after all.

Resigned, he looks at her from a distance, which fared much better. At least, from a distance, he would be content.

She was not simple and nor was she a harbinger of good luck, but she gave a special light to this color and gave him a reason to like the color again.

+ _ that's when you realize you were so very close, yet too late. +_

_end_

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><p>Wow. I finished a one-shot in a day. What a miracle! Maybe I should do more of these to increase productivity. Or something. Or to keep my brain going. Anyway, woot for Roxis-Pamela! I'm such a sucker for this pair but I love other pairs too. Augh, I miss my darned laptop. Hopefully I'll be able to update around December...<p>

For the last part, about the aspect of royalty, I placed there the concept of being 'unattainable'. Yeah, some sappy stuff I added there...

I'm pretty pleased with myself with this one (although I think Roxis is a little OOC and this was kind of random). I love those cross verses. What do you think? Reviews are very much appreciated, along with some advice, if ever!

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.


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